My Column in Thursday's Oakland Press on Ernie And Why He Became the Man He Did: http://tinyurl.com/2a97obh

You knew this was going to happen, probably sooner instead of later. The mortality of human life dictated it.
But somehow knowing Ernie Harwell has taken his last breath is still saddening.
I hadn't known how to respond to Ernie's illness. The last thing he wanted was sympathy. He lived a good life, and knew it. He was at peace.
Like everybody else, I grew up with Ernie as my voice of the summer. Sneaking the transistor radio to bed to listen to the Tigers' games isn't a myth. I did it. So did every other kid I knew.
The Tigers back then had a grip on this town no other team has since. Baseball was the clear-cut king. Ernie's deep voice echoed throughout the kingdom.
But his impact on me truly became profound the moment I first actually met him. It was my first Tigers' game as a reporter. I was covering high schools and answering phones for The Oakland Press, working 80 hours per week for pay that was ridiculously low. I wasn't even on staff. It was 1983. The Tigers were building toward 1984. Don Frost, the sports editor at the time, called me and said the Tigers' beat writer couldn't cover a Sunday afternoon game against the Toronto Blue Jays. He said covering the game was my reward for a job well done.
I can't even begin to tell you how excited I was when I hung up the phone - until I actually arrived at the ball park. I went into the clubhouse, and while standing in manager Sparky Anderson's office, I broke out in a cold sweat. I was scared to death. I walked out of the clubhouse totally humiliated without saying a word.
I was standing at the door of the elevator, looking down and feeling ill. All of a sudden, this hand jetted in front of my face and I heard that voice: "Hi, I'm Ernie Harwell. Good to meet you."
I can't tell you much at ease it made me feel. Or how often I have thought of that moment, or repeated it to friends down through the years. It was a defining moment of my life.
Only Ernie could have that type of impact with such a simple gesture. Beyond his ability as a broadcaster, it was his great gift.
Those of us who knew Ernie better than the general public, we'll all tell you the stories are true. Even in his more human moments, when what might be perceived as flaws would be exposed, Ernie never tried to cover them up. It was "this is what I am. I'm not perfect." But he did so with grace.
I respected his knowledge of the game - and incredible recall about the past - more than anybody I've met. I admired his graciousness. More than anything else, I loved Ernie's approach to life. He was spiritual, yes, but didn't knock you over the head with it. He definitely wasn't afraid to put people in their place. And he was unyieldingly loyal.
His wife, Lulu, is a truly wonderful person. Seeing them together was always, to me, the definition of what a marriage should be. My heart goes out to her and Ernie's family.
I know this: I'm still going to hear Ernie voice the rest of my life. I won't have to put his audio scrapbook in to hear it - although I undoubtedly will, and often.
That voice is there in my heart - just like you. And it will resonate as loudly in his death as it did in life.

Great line from Ernie Harwell when I talked to him this afternoon. I said, "Ernie, I always tell people you're a tough guy...
And before I could get out the rest he blurted out - "AND MEAN, TOO!!!"
It made me laugh, because there is an element there that is so true about life. Being tough doesn't mean you're mean. Ernie Harwell is definitely tough, but obviously not mean. There is a big difference when you think about it. Sometimes it's the difference between a person with character and an unsavory character.
What's always amazed me about Ernie is the clarity of his memory. If you ask him about the gloves they used to leave on the field between innings, or the old Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants, etc. he is always been able to paint a vivid picture. He is the best baseball historian I've known. A suggestion: Get his audio scrapbook. It's a true treasure.

My column in today's Oakland Press about two Lions' tormentors being rolled into one Sunday at Ford Field: http://tinyurl.com/qakn5r

Ernie Harwell is a friend of mine. He has had a profound impact on my life. He hasn’t rescued me from a fire or lent me a large sum of money to get out of debt - or anything like that.
His impact has come from little messages. A phone call here. A short note there. Perhaps an e-mail. Most have been complimentary - when I’ve been feeling down. I don’t know if it has been coincidence or not, but his timing has been uncanny - and uplifting. Other times, Ernie has reminded me about how one should act professionally and personally. When you add all those "little" messages together, they present one "big" impact. What a good man.
I feel for Ernie in his situation of being diagnosed with cancer. I also know him well enough to understand he is at peace. It’s sometimes forgotten how tough he is - the man was a marine, you know. I feel for his wife, Lulu. I’ve had some nice talks with Lulu that I remember well and treasure. She makes a great chicken salad sandwich, too. As good as Ernie is, she is his better half. Ernie would be the first to tell you that.
I’ve gotten a lot more out of knowing Ernie than he could ever have gotten out of knowing me.
And thing is, the way I feel is the way all people feel. Like Ernie is their good friend. Like all those little messages he has delivered down through the years have added up to one big impact in their lives.
It’s why he so loved. A truly gifted and great broadcaster. A better person.

My column in today's Oakland Press on perceptions and realities about the Tigers: http://tinyurl.com/lbkf6z